Just Like Old Times
by bammi1
Summary: Bobby and Lewis talk about the good old days


Just Like Old Times

_This has been one hell of a _wee_k,_ Bobby thought, as he eased his weary body into the shower. He turned the water on, adjusting the showerhead to its highest velocity. _God, that feels good._ As he stood under the bursting stream of water, letting the water just beat down on him, he felt his troubles flowing away…._This has been one hell of a week, _he thought again. The fact that he'd had a gun pulled on him. That one of their witnesses had turned up dead. That their case was slowly but surely going down the toilet. That the Chief of D's was breathing down their captain's neck, and their captain was breathing down theirs. Yep, it was quite a week.

His mind drifted back to earlier in the day. He and Alex had gone to interview a witness when the "witness" suddenly pulled a gun on them. Before either of them had a chance to even open their mouths, the man panicked and shot at Bobby, the bullet whizzing past his ear. As he raised his arm to shoot again, Bobby went for him, and the two went down, both struggling for the gun. Another shot rang out just before Bobby slammed the guy's hand down hard enough to force the gun from his hand. Soon Alex had the cuffs on the man and the police came and took him away. Both breathed a sigh of relief, then Alex noticed Bobby's open jacket. It had a bullet hole in it. _Jesus,_ he had breathed.

But all this he would deal with again on Monday, including another psych evaluation for the near shooting. Right now he was just letting the water do its job, then he'd crawl into bed and hope for some decent sleep. At least tomorrow would be better. He had the weekend off, and nothing would relax him more than doing some serious car restoration with Lewis.

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Lewis' latest acquisition was an old 1936 Ford Roadster, which he planned to restore and sell for a nice, very nice, profit. Bobby took one look at it, and the only thing that could come out of his mouth was an admiring "Sweet!"

There was absolutely nothing that Bobby liked to do more in his spare time than work on cars. Sometimes, he had to admit, he envied Lewis his choice of career, doing what he loved, and getting paid well for it. Sure, there was some stress involved when Lewis was working on a deadline to get a guy's car ready on time, but rarely was there a gun pointed at him with some kind of a nut holding said gun. The sound of that bullet flying past his ear was not something that was easily forgotten. But…who was he kidding? That was part of the job, the job he chose, and the job he loved. There would probably be a lot more bullets flying around before it was all over, but he wouldn't give up this job for the world.

Both Bobby and Lewis were very enthusiastic about this car and started in right away. This was something Bobby loved; there was no way he could resist this. Since they were teenagers, unless they were out getting in trouble, which was often, he and Lewis could always be found together working on cars.

They worked almost non-stop, joking around, having a good time together, but very serious when it came to the car. Finally about noon, they stopped for lunch. Sitting in the garage, munching on sandwiches and drinking a beer, both looked very happy and satisfied.

"Just like old times, huh, Bobby?" Lewis asked, swigging his beer. "Like when we were kids."

"Yeah," Bobby said. "Kinda…"

"Kinda?" Lewis said. .

"Well…it's just that…something's different. From the old days…"

Both looked around at the garage and the car they were restoring, at the food they were eating, at each other.

"You mean like maybe we're thirty years older?"

Bobby laughed. "No. Not that. Ah…it's nothing, it's just me, guess I didn't sleep very well again last night."

"Well, let's get back to work, you'll feel better." With that, both men tossed their beer cans, and started in again. This time they didn't knock off until well after seven.

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After getting a little something to ear, they decided to hit the bar in Bobby's neighborhood. They sat at the bar, where Bobby had his scotch, and Lewis another beer. Then Lewis proceeded to take out a picture and showed it to Bobby. "Look at this beauty, Bobby!" Lewis enthused. It was a picture of an old Shelby.

"That's next on the list?" Bobby said, grinning, and once again murmured "Sweet." He could definitely see all the possibilities for this car.

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The guys spent the next two hours drinking, ribbing each other, and reminiscing. Bobby was in a great mood now, just having a good time. They were to the point of really feeling the alcohol, so much so that Bobby never noticed Patrick Copa come in. But he saw Bobby.

Patrick Copa was a tall ex-cop forced into early retirement, who had never forgiven Bobby Goren for his part in Copa's retirement. Despite the fact Copa had a severe vision problem that could potentially endanger his partner or anyone unlucky enough to be around him, Copa had decided it was all Goren's fault. The mere _thought_ of Goren was enough to raise his blood pressure, and the_ sight_ of him made his blood boil. Worse of all, he couldn't stand it because the one who got him was Know-It-All-Goren. He'd like just one time to punch his lights out. He just might get his chance now.

And right away he could see, thanks to his new glasses, that Bobby was slightly off his game, a little drunk. He spoke to his buddies, who went outside, then he came up to Bobby and stood behind him, so close he was actually leaning into him.

It took a minute, but then both Bobby and Lewis became aware of him. Looking up, Bobby sighed. "Can I help you?" he asked, a little sarcastically.

"What are you doing here?" Copa asked angrily.

Bobby stood up, having to push Copa back slightly in order to do so. Copa took offense.

"Who you pushing?" he demanded.

Bobby stared at him, eye to eye. "Look, Copa, I told you before, I don't want any trouble."

"Well you got it anyway."

Lewis watched this exchange wide-eyed.

"What do you want?" Bobby asked again, trying to diffuse a highly volatile situation.

"I just want to talk to you. Outside, where we can talk in quiet."

Since Copa was alone, he agreed to it. If he had not had those last few drinks, he might have been more wary. "Uh, Lewis, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Bobby—" Lewis started, but Bobby put a hand out, stopping him.

"It's okay, Lewis."

Lewis watched as the two tall men, one a police detective, the other an ex-cop on forced retirement, walked out of the bar.

The air outside was cool, and Bobby breathed it in, realizing he was slightly drunk. He followed Copa to the side of the building.

"Okay, what?" Bobby demanded.

"Just…this…" Copa said, watching as his two buddies grabbed Bobby from behind, holding his arms tightly, as the other guy stood ready. Copa grinned, then reared back and punched him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. Before Bobby had a chance to recover, Copa slammed a fist into his face. "This is what we do to rats." He hit him again, relishing the feel of his fist on the bone and soft tissue around Bobby's eye. And he hit him again.

Before anyone knew it, Lewis suddenly slammed his body into Copa, knocking him down, taking everyone by surprise. Taking advantage of their shock, Bobby jerked out of the grasp of his captors, and slammed his fist into one of them, then the other, and then the third guy joined in. Before long Lewis and Bobby had the situation well in control, working in sync, as if they'd done it like this half their lives. And Copa and his buddies backed off, defeated soundly, Copa spewing even more threats against Bobby.

The guys resumed their place at the bar. For the last time that night, their glasses were refilled, and they took a moment to assess their wounds.

Looking at Bobby, and the huge bruise under his eye with more already forming, Lewis said "Damn, Bobby, your face is sooo messed up."

"You should talk," Bobby replied, watching as Lewis dabbed at his split lip with a napkin. "Or, more to the point, by tomorrow you won't be able to talk at all when your mouth swells up to twice its size."

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The next morning Bobby showed up again at Lewis' garage. As expected, more bruises appeared on his face, and the one under his eye had escalated into a full blown shiner. Consciously or not, one hand protectively covered his mid-section. "How you doing?" he asked Lewis.

"Okay," he answered, "except it's kinda hard to talk. Or breathe. Guess they got my nose, too," he grinned. "That eye looks pretty bad, Bobby."

"It's okay. Ready to start?"

They started in on the car again, their injuries forgotten, drinking beer, enjoying each other's company. Later, it hit Bobby, and he looked up from the car to Lewis and his messed up nose.

Feeling Bobby's eyes on him, Lewis looked up. "What?"

"Your face…" he said. "And mine…"

And Lewis understood. "I get it. _**Now**_, it's just like old times."

end


End file.
